September 14, 2022,
by Pete
If you’re not from Newcastle or South Shields, it might be hard to understand how big a place the Great North Run occupies in the collective consciousness. It doesn’t matter where I’ve travelled to race, or how far those races have been, for many people here the question is always; ‘are you doing the Great North Run?’ After route changes due to coronavirus restrictions in 2021, the world’s biggest half marathon returned to the traditional route this year. You start on the central motorway in Newcastle and you run to the sea in South Shields. Given I live near the start and was born near the finish, it always feels a little like coming home. I know how I should pace a race but on a fast road race like this, I just don’t want to. I’d rather fail spectacularly knowing I gave it 110% than pace myself around to... View Article
September 9, 2019,
by Pete
There are many things that I find frustrating about the Great North Run. It’s expensive, over commercialised and mainly ran on dual carriageways. There are too many people and the t-shirts are cheap. But the moment I hear the gun, and the opening bars of Local Hero come from the speakers, all frustrations are forgotten. The run up to this years event has been a little different for me. I’d been having a golden spell in early summer. In eight days I ran personal bests for 5k, 10k and the Chevy Chase. Everything seemed to be falling into place right until the moment I took a tumble at the Turner Landscape. As my ankle turned over on itself, I saw my hopes of a quick summer disappear. It’s been a tough five weeks since. I spent two weeks flailing around attempting to swim before a gradual return to running. I squeezed into my start pen... View Article
September 10, 2016,
by Pete
It’s a strange dance that occurs before the start of a long run; the DJ tries to pump up the crowd, with a variety of motivational slogans and Avicii tunes. The runners bounce from foot to foot, trying to find the perfect equilibrium between moving to warm up the muscles and not moving so much that the heart rate goes too high, too soon. It’s over 100, don’t move quite so much, but the tunes are getting you psyched, move a little more. “Hands in the air,” demands the voice through the speakers, and thousands of pairs of hands reach for he heavens and start to clap. The clap lacks the intense and protracted rhythm of the Icelandic clap, yet makes up for in passion what it lacks in beat. With fifteen seconds to go before the gun the tunes stop entirely. A hushed silence falls across the thousands of... View Article
